Daily your thoughts are occupied by him -- everything from the way
he smiled at you to how he brushed his teeth. Although the non-bereaved
may think that if you try hard enough you can keep from being reminded of
your deceased loved one, we bereaved know that is far from the truth.
Regardless, many believe that you only recall his memory on
certain days like a birthday or Christmas, or when memories bring
those triggers of days gone by.
After Daniel died -- my sweet blond-haired four-year-old with the
infectious laugh -- I was certain that the things I did from that day
in his memory would carry on throughout the rest of my life.
I thought that I would always write a new poem on his anniversary
death date, eat egg rolls on Christmas Eve, donate to The National
Childhood Cancer Foundation, and volunteer at the local hospice's
Tree of Remembrance.
The truth is we change. It makes sense that what we do in memory
changes.
By the ninth anniversary of Daniel's death, lighting a candle, getting a few
cards from loving friends and family members, and sharing him with a new
co-worker was enough for that February 2. I didn't feel the "need"
to come up with a poem.
There are two important things when it comes to the ways we
memorialize our loved one. One is to have something significant
that you do in his or her memory. In my monthly ezine, Tributes, I
encourage parents and siblings to be interviewed about what they
do in memory. It is fascinating to see all the creative ways
people memorialize their loved one.
Some go to hospitals with blankets for premature babies. Others
set up scholarships so that those less fortunate can achieve
higher education. There is no end to the inventive ways
the bereaved can encircle the memory of a loved one and
give to the rest of society in his name.
The second aspect I stress is the freedom to change what is done
in memory.
As we need freedom to grieve and weep boldly when our loved one
passes from life to death, we must also exercise the freedom to change
our patterns.
This simply means that we don't have to do in year five what we did in
year one. We are not burdened with routines or rituals we do not feel
the need to continue. It is okay to no longer be the editor of a
bereavement publication or as in my case, not write the yearly poem.